In Their Blood
by KatZen
Summary: It was inevitable that they accepted the offer to join International Rescue. After all, helping people was an innate response for them, as they first discovered on a long trip home.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ****The Thunderbirds do not belong to me. They are the property of Gerry Anderson and his affiliates. The original characters come from my imagination, and have appeared in some of my other works. I am pretty sure that my imagination belongs to me, unless it runs wild and becomes a law unto itself.**

**AN: So, I'm not too sure if there was a canonical way Brains was introduced to the Tracy family. If there was, please consider this an A/U story (to an extent – hopefully the characters are still in character). It there isn't, then this is my take on it. **

In Their Blood

_It was inevitable that they accepted the offer to join International Rescue. After all, helping people was an innate response for them, as they first discovered on a long trip home._

From the backseat of the car, sixteen and a half year old Virgil Tracy groaned, clamping his hand over his mouth as his stomach performed a backflip.

"How you holding up, Virg. Need Scott to pull over so you can spew in the gutter?"

Virgil gagged as his immediate elder brother mentioned the 's word'. But Tracy pride wouldn't let him admit to his weakness, so he shook his head and weakly showed a thumbs up. Maybe Scott would show him more empathy.

"I told you not to order rare steak for dinner last night, didn't I, Virg? I told you that there was a chance you could get food poisoning," Scott stated, his triumphant _I-told-you-so_ lacing his voice. "You get no sympathy from me."

Virgil issued out another groan and let his head loll against the window.

"And if you throw up in my car, you're cleaning it up," Scott continued.

Charming.

It was nice to know that his favourite brother had his back, Virgil bitched sarcastically. Well, that wasn't strictly true. Scott and John had been there for Virgil for years, ever since he had been born. Even when they had moved out of home to attend Yale and Harvard respectively, they still made sure that their little brothers could rely on them and approach them for advice with their problems.

In fact, it was one such problem that had sent Virgil over to the East Coast for the weekend. He was fast approaching the time where he had to make some serious decisions about his tertiary education, and as his father had instructed, Virgil had opted to visit some prospective campuses to get a first-hand experience of what college life was like.

It was just a coincidence that he got a trip to visit his older brothers out of it as well. _Of course it was_.

The older Tracys had organised a weekend for Virgil to spend the Saturday in New Haven with Scott, before they headed up to Boston to spend the Sunday with John. In conjunction, the weekend had fallen just before March recess, so Scott had insisted that they all returned home together. A road trip, Scott had called it, claiming that it would be some good brother-bonding time. An odd notion for Scott to have, given he was a pilot, and loved to fly, but Virgil suspected that his reasoning was genuine.

And that was how they had spent the last twenty six hours; with Scott and John alternating behind the wheel, while Virgil focussed on _not_ defiling the interior of the car.

"We're almost home, Virg," Scott said. "Half an hour out. Think you can hold it in?"

A strangled yell from Virgil. John took it as a yes.

Breathing in deeply, Virgil watched the wheat fields flash by as the car sped past them. Strangely enough, he could feel the knot in his stomach loosen, could feel the sickly feeling diminish as he realised that they were closer to home, closer to family, all together again. Even though he had only been away from home for a weekend, he couldn't quite believe just how much he had missed his little pests of little brothers. How the hell did Scott and John manage being away from them for three months at a time? Not to mention Grams' cooking; that was the thing Virgil missed the most on his weekend away.

After a while, though, the view became monotonous. It was just wheat stalk after wheat stalk after wheat stalk. But there was something else that stood out in the background. Something out of place.

Even though it was March, it was a clear, sunny, if crisp day. There was no reason for a plume of smoke to be prominent on the horizon.

John had seen it too, and his neck craned around. "Scott, pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over!"

Rolling his eyes, Scott complied. "I don't hear Virgil throwing up, so what's the problem?"

John simply pointed out of the window.

"Oh, shit. That's bad. We gotta go help them."

A quirked blond eyebrow, so Scott elaborated.

"On an isolated road? What's the likelihood of anyone else coming across them? Nope, we're gonna help them, right?"

Even though it was posed as a question, John and Virgil both knew that Scott really meant it as a statement. Neither were surprised when Scott revved the engine of the car and raced towards the smoke.

"Team Tracy to the rescue," John joked, pulling the Superman pose. "We're superheros for the day!"

"And don't you forget it," Scott replied, flooring the accelerator, face set in grim determination.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: ****The Thunderbirds do not belong to me. They are the property of Gerry Anderson and his affiliates. The original characters come from my imagination, and have appeared in some of my other works. I am pretty sure that my imagination belongs to me, unless it runs wild and becomes a law unto itself.**

**AN: So, I'm not too sure if there was a canonical way Brains was introduced to the Tracy family. If there was, please consider this an A/U story (to an extent – hopefully the characters are still in character). It there isn't, then this is my take on it. **

Chapter Two

It was the world's worst barbeque, Virgil thought, as the smoke seeped into the interior of the car as they approached. His stomach flipped over again; he could have sworn he smelt meat cooking.

With the car parked a safe distance away, Scott and John both leapt out, ready to render assistance. Virgil wondered why; observing the two cars that had mangled together, coupled with the smell of freshly cooked flesh, there was little to no hope of finding survivors.

"I've got a live one!" John yelled, head appearing in and out of Virgil's sight as he tended to the injured. "Virgil, call the paramedics and get me the water bottles from the car!"

With Virgil on the phone to the authorities, John turned to the person he had found, pulling him as far away from the wreckage as he could. Once John felt that they were a safe distance away from a possible explosion – fire and leaking gas were never a good mix – he gently wrapped the man up in a blanket, just to keep him as warm as possible. Gut twisting, John spared a glance at the victim. Skin scorched from where his clothes had been incinerated. Laboured breathing, as the man struggled for each breath. With the skin burnt off the man's face, revealing sinewy muscle, blood coagulating in the crevices of the victim's facial structure, and the possibility of nerve damage, John knew that there was no way of accurately identifying the person.

Well, that wasn't quite true. Delving his hand into the unconscious man's pocket, John pulled out a wallet, leafing through it until he found an ID card.

The man he had just saved was known as Hiram Hackenbacker. At eighteen, they were both the same age, John realised. He briefly wondered how Hiram had ended up in this state.

From the ground, Hiram stirred. "B-b-urns," he stammered out quietly, too desensitised to the pain from his third degree burns to even scream in agony. Trying to determine the extent of the damage, Hiram's hand clawed at his face.

John nodded, tucking the arm back under the blanket. Hiram's eyes shot to the water bottle, but John shook his head. John may not have been qualified in first-aid, but he had been in and out of hospitals enough times to know that Hiram would need surgery, and that would mean he couldn't drink.

"It's okay, Hiram. It's gonna be okay." A small, reassuring smile. "My brother's called for help; the paramedics'll be here soon. Just hang on."

The fire had inched ever closer to them; John could feel the searing heat radiate on them, he could feel the thick, toxic fumes begin to suffocate them. Brotherly instinct for Scott kicked in. John could only hope his big brother hadn't done anything stupid, like getting himself hurt in the process of trying to save another person.

"Scott?"

But there was no answer from the nineteen and a half year old Tracy. Instead, the brunette had pulled off his jumper and placed it over his mouth and nose as a mask as he entered the burning shell of one of the vehicles.

Under normal circumstances, Scott would never have pulled such a stupid stunt, but this was anything, everything, but normal. A high pitched, keening sound, a shriek that could have woken the dead spurred him on, encouraging to have little to no regard for his own safety. As the elder brother to four little brothers, Scott recognised a baby's wail when he heard it.

With his thoughts preoccupied with the infant who was trapped in the car, Scott placed his hand on the metal handle, ready to wrench the door of its hinges so he could scoop up the baby and whisk them to safety.

He let out a string of curse words as he felt the skin pucker and blister from the burn he had just inflicted on himself. Inside, the baby screamed even louder, arms flailing wildly, dangerously close to flames that had so far managed to avoid her.

With no regard for his own wellbeing, Scott bit down hard on his tongue – literally biting back the string of curse words he was going to utter; it wouldn't do to swear in front of a baby – as he practically forced his way through the car door to get to the child. Biting back some more curse words as he struggled to free the baby from the car seat – the metal buckle was excruciatingly, painfully hot, but there was no other way to release the child apart from the capsule – Scott pulled the jumper away from his mouth and wrapped the little girl up to keep her warm.

A hacking cough as he accidentally breathed in the noxious fumes. The baby in his arms let out another ear splitting shriek, choking on the smoke as well.

"Okay, honey, I get the point," he reassured, rocking the baby. Scott noted that she was no more than five months old. "I'm getting you out of here. Then I'll go check on your Mommy and Daddy, okay?"

Scott slowly backed his way out of the car, coughing once again as the smoke snaked its way down his throat. "Virgil!"

The sixteen and a half year old scurried forward at the call, only slowing down once his mind registered the scene he was entering. Not even the worst horror movie Virgil had seen could compare to this. He swallowed the vomit that threatened to erupt from him. Squinting his eyes shut, Virgil approached Scott, who thrust the squirming bundle into his arms.

"Get to John," Scott instructed. "He's a safe distance away. Get him to look after the baby and then standby for the paramedics."

"What are you doing?"

"There are still two people trapped in the car."

Another cough from Scott, as he rubbed at his eyes, making them appear more bloodshot as they reacted to the fire and smoke.

"Scott, no!" Virgil grabbed Scott by the upper arm. "You've inhaled smoke, your eyes are shot to shit, you've given yourself burns! You'll injure yourself even more if you go back!"

"They could still be alive in there! Virg, the injuries I have pale in comparison to the suffering they're going through right now!" A sigh, and Scott moderated his voice. "Virg, you know I can't leave here until I know for sure. And to do that, I need to know that you and John are as safe as possible. Please?"

Careful consideration. Honey burnt eyes met with cobalt blue ones, unblinking, waging war with each other until one party understood and desisted.

"For God's sake, Scott, be careful!"

With that, Scott delved back into the burning wreckage.

* * *

John knelt by Hiram, baby tucked into the crook of his elbow, prattling on about nonsense, just to keep the invalid conscious. From the roadside, Virgil held up his hand; the emergency services were three minutes out. John heaved a sigh of relief; he wasn't sure he could do much more to increase Hiram's chances of survival.

"I was too late." Scott collapsed on the ground next to John, relieving John of the baby. Face twisted in an expression of sorrow and pain, although this may have been from the new burns he had acquired across his cheek, Scott held the fussing little girl closer to him. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

A single, solitary tear tracked its way down Scott's cheek, and Scott flinched as it crossed over the burn. The baby seemed to have understood the meaning behind his words and immediately quietened down.

A sobering silence.

A time to consider those they had saved.

A moment for mourning the strangers that had been lost.

John could feel the pain radiating off from Scott. An act of fraternal support, John placed a hand on the elder man's shoulder, not surprised in the least when Scott didn't shrug it off. Neither did he mind when John poured some water over the burns on his face, hands and arms.

The guilt bubbled in the base of Scott's stomach, crawling its way up his body, skewering right through his heart. The little girl in his arms was going to grow up an orphan, and it was his fault. He just hadn't been able to get to her parents fast enough.

"I don't even know their names," Scott whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy. "It wasn't meant to end this way."

A quick glance up; John could see Virgil escorting the emergency services to them.

"You don't need to know who they are. Just know that you saved their daughter. And, yeah, maybe it wasn't meant to end this way, but maybe it was. Remember what Mom used to say?"

"Everything happens for a reason. You may not understand it, you may not like it, but have faith that everything happens for a reason," they chorused together.

"_Everything_ happens for a reason," John repeated. "You did the best you could, Scott. No, you surpassed all the expectations anyone could have had of you, and don't tell yourself otherwise. You did more than your best."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: ****The Thunderbirds do not belong to me. They are the property of Gerry Anderson and his affiliates. The original characters come from my imagination, and have appeared in some of my other works. I am pretty sure that my imagination belongs to me, unless it runs wild and becomes a law unto itself.**

**AN: So, I'm not too sure if there was a canonical way Brains was introduced to the Tracy family. If there was, please consider this an A/U story (to an extent – hopefully the characters are still in character). It there isn't, then this is my take on it. **

Chapter Three

After the excitement of the day – there was probably a more appropriate word to use, but John was too tired to think of it – it came as no surprise when the paramedics deemed that John and Scott would also be taken to the closest hospital to be treated for smoke inhalation and, in Scott's case, second degree burns.

Blinking as a nurse administered some eye drops to help soothe his bloodshot eyes, John frowned as he glanced around the room. Virgil was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Gordon and Alan were there as well, which meant that Jeff and Grams were also somewhere in the hospital compound. Hazarding a guess, John thought that his father and grandmother were peppering the doctor about his and Scott's condition.

Scott was meant to have been sharing a room with John, handcuffed to the bed by numerous IVs and an oxygen mask for treatment for smoke inhalation and burns, of which the severity was far worse than Scott had made out to the paramedics. Second degree burns to his hands, face and arms, and some first degree burns on his chest. John wondered just how bad the fire had raged for his brother to have been burnt to such an extent. The bed, with the IV lines lying neatly on the pillow, told a different story. Scott had disappeared – probably before John had been moved into the room from the main ward, and Virgil had been allowed into the room – from sight.

Heaving a sigh, John flicked his head over to the empty bed, instinctively knowing exactly where Scott was.

"Nurse? You know the guy who was brought in with us? Hiram Hackenbacker?" At the nurse's nod, John continued. "Well, is he going to be okay?"

"He was in a critical state when he came in, he's suffering from shock and respiratory problems and his burns are quite severe, but with a bit of luck and lots of rest, the doctors think he'll pull through. Once he's more stable, the doctors will implement further treatment for his burns."

"Skin grafts?"

"Most likely."

"So he's okay?"

"Yes. He's going to be fine, thanks to you. Now, Mr. Tracy, know where your brother is?"

"Yeah, I think I know where he is."

* * *

Scott knew he shouldn't have defied the doctor's orders, shouldn't have worried the nurses by disappearing, but he just had to know how the baby girl was doing.

Standing outside the glass window to the Paediatric Intensive Care Unit, Scott peered in; trying to determine who was the girl he had rescued.

It wasn't that hard to locate her; she was the only one who didn't have a visitor around her plastic crib. Guilt reared its ugly head up again; his entire fault that her parents wouldn't be there for her.

A soft voice from beside him jarred him back to reality. A paediatrician stood next to him.

"You could go in if you wanted to."

"I thought it was family only allowed in there."

"Well, considering you were the one that saved her, and she has no one else here for her, I think I can make an exception. Go on."

The doctor swiped his card against the doors to the PICU and allowed Scott inside.

"How did you know it was me who pulled her out?" Scott enquired, gingerly making his way towards the infant.

"I was on call in the ER when you were brought in; I saw you holding her. You also bear damage from the fire, so it was a logical to assume that you saved her. You did a good job. She's got a fighting chance, thanks to you."

Staring down into the cot, Scott had one more question for the physician.

"Does she have a name?"

"Zoe McKenna. The police identified her as Zoe McKenna. You should hold her. The physical contact will do her good. I'll bring your treatment up here, while you stay with Zoe."

At the doctor's encouraging nod, Scott slipped his hands under her body and cradled her gently.

"Hey, Zoe," he smiled, bittersweet, settling down into a vacant chair, oblivious to what else was going on in the surrounding environment, including the IVs being reattached to him. "How you doin'?"

From the outside, three figures watched Scott interact Zoe. With John still stuck in his room, and Gordon and Alan keeping him company, Virgil, Jeff and Josie observed Scott from the other side of the window.

"I'm proud of what you three did today," Jeff said, squeezing Virgil's shoulder. "More proud than words can say. And your mother would be proud of the three of you too."

"We just did what anyone else would have done," Virgil shrugged. "Besides, it was Scott and John that did most of the saving."

"No, Virgil, you stopped and you helped out," Josie rebutted. "That's more than what most people would have done. And you did just as much as Scott and John did. Just by calling the emergency services, and acting as their gofer, you helped them out more than you'll ever realise."

A beat of silence, as they watched Scott trace a hand over Zoe's cheek.

"Scott's gonna make a great dad one day," Virgil commented, glancing up at Jeff.

"He is. And that day is far, far in the future." Jeff laughed. "I'm not ready to be a grandfather yet!"

"You, uh, you may need to talk to him, Dad," Virgil whispered. "He blames himself for not being able to save her parents. He hasn't said much, but I can tell that it's eating him from the inside out."

"I'll talk to him," Jeff promised. "But you know it's not something he'll get over fast."

"There's gotta be something that could help him, though."

"And there is, Virgil," Josie pointed out. "You see what he's doing in there? He's holding that baby girl he helped save. That will help him heal more than empty words will."

A brief, tentative but genuine smile, as Scott looked up to the window and saw the voyeurs. A small wave of his hand of acknowledgement, and Scott's attention was diverted back to Zoe.

"Come on, Virgil," Josie led the two Tracys down to John's room. "We'll give your brother some privacy."

So maybe they hadn't been able to save everyone, Virgil thought as he stood in the elevator, sandwiched between his father and his grandmother. And maybe it would take a long time for Virgil, Scott and John to make peace with the way events unfolded. But knowing that their actions helped ensure that two people were still alive?

That felt pretty damn good.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: ****The Thunderbirds do not belong to me. They are the property of Gerry Anderson and his affiliates. The original characters come from my imagination, and have appeared in some of my other works. I am pretty sure that my imagination belongs to me, unless it runs wild and becomes a law unto itself.**

**AN: This chapter has some brief references to OCs (and a separate story, but that's getting off topic.) Hopefully the references are brief enough for it to be read easily if you're reading this as a 'stand-alone', but definitely enough for it to be tied into the skewed Thunderbirds universe that's been forming over my years on this site. Hope you enjoy.**

Chapter Four

_Eight years later_

The tropical air breezed through the opened balcony doors. The sun shone brightly in the sky. There was not a cloud in sight. It promised to be a beautiful day on Tracy Island.

From inside the flat that his family had just moved into – the newly built compound meant that he, his wife and two (but in a fortnight, it would be three) kids weren't squeezed into a suite that was designed for only one person – Scott strolled into the kitchen.

Well, he attempted to stroll into his kitchen, but he was tackled by two pint-sized projectiles.

"Daddy!" they yelled in tandem, each one grabbing onto his jean leg. "Pancakes!"

Squatting down to the height of his two children, he placed a finger over his lips. "Not so loud! I'm not deaf yet, and your Mommy isn't feeling great today. Just tone it down, okay?"

Chastised, the three year old girl and two year old boy nodded.

"So, pancakes." Scott hoisted both his kids into his arms and set them down on a kitchen bench. "Who's gonna help me, huh?"

"I will, Daddy!" Melissa yelled excitedly, swinging her legs wildly.

"Mel, what did I just say about loud voices?"

The girl's lip wibbled slightly and her eyes became downcast. Upsetting her beloved Daddy was not something she liked to do.

Seeing that his eldest was in desperate need of reassurance, Scott wrapped her up in a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead before doing the same to his two year old son.

"Luke, banana pancakes?" Scott's head swivelled towards Melissa. "Or should we make Nutella pancakes instead?"

"You're not feeding our kids Nutella for breakfast, Scott." A pregnant pause, which was appropriate since it was his wife who was berating him. "What're you three up to, anyway?"

"We cook, Mommy," Luke stated, nodding his head decisively.

Whatever reaction Scott was hoping for, it wasn't having his wife lean against the doorframe while she laughed.

"I'm sorry, but did you guys say that you were cooking? This I must see!"

Insulted, Scott crossed his arms over his chest. "Tash, do Gordon and I really have to set fire to another kitchen to prove to you that I can cook?"

"No, setting fire to one kitchen was quite enough. Carry on."

Halfway through Scott making the batch, Gordon bounded into the apartment, a white envelope waving like a flag in his hand.

"Mail call, Scotty!" The red head prankster swapped the letter for a plate piled with maple syruped goodness.

"Gordon, that was my kids' breakfast you stole!" Scott cried, outraged.

"I brought you your mail; I'll consider these sublime pancakes payment for my services."

"If International Rescue goes belly-up, keep that attitude in mind, because then you could be a gigolo," Scott said, sliding a finger under the envelope flap. "There's a career path if you enjoy payment-for-services-rendered. Of course, being a gigolo would require you to be able to find a woman, and by that I mean one who has a discernible pulse."

Quirking his eyebrows, cheeky smile etched into his face, Gordon leaned on the bench top. "You seem to know a lot about this, Scotty."

Ignoring the jibe, since he had started it, Scott opened the letter and began to scan read it.

"Gordon, do me a favour."

A shift in tone, more subdued, stunned almost.

"Sure."

"Go get Virgil. And John. They need to read this as well."

* * *

"What are we going to do, Scott?"

It was late in the afternoon, and the three oldest Tracy sons had gathered in Thunderbird Two's hangar, just to minimise the chance of being overheard.

"I don't know, Virg."

"Can I read the letter again?"

"Knock yourself out, John." Scott pushed the piece of paper towards John.

Rubbing his eyes, John began to read. Zoe McKenna, now eight years young, had managed to discover the names of her rescuers, and discover their public address – not the one for Tracy Island – in the public domain. Now, with the support of her adoptive parents, she wanted to meet up with them and learn about the day that irrevocably changed her life.

"I reckon we should go," Scott said, leaning against the bulk of Thunderbird Two.

"Dad'll burst a blood vessel when he realises that all three of us'll need shore leave for this."

Two pairs of blue eyes regarded Virgil.

"Don't you ever wonder what happens to the people we rescue, Virg?"

"Sure I do, John."

"Well, don't you think it would be worthwhile to see what's happened with Zoe? She _was_ one of the first people we saved."

A moment of silence.

"Virgil, at the end of the day, it comes down to this. You say yes, and you get to meet her. You say thanks, but no thanks, and continue on wondering." Typical Scott, only seeing the choice in binary, where there were only two options to pick from. "I'm saying yes. Plus, I really want to see the greatness that is Scott City."

"A guaranteed trip to an ice-cream parlour near home? I'm there," John seconded.

It would be nice to see how things panned out for Zoe, Virgil mused. After all, wondering what Zoe was up to was something that all three Tracys did from time to time. If a rescue had gone wrong, or there had been more fatalities than survivors, it was inevitable that one Tracy would find the other one leaning heavily on the balcony, late at night. One would casually throw out the line, "I wonder what Zoe's doing right now," to serve as a gentle reminder that while they could not be successful all the time, they were at least a saviour to someone else at some point in time.

Stretching the kinks out of his back, Virgil stood up and stretched. "So, who's coming with me to break the news to Dad? The three of us are going to need a day off."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: ****The Thunderbirds do not belong to me. They are the property of Gerry Anderson and his affiliates. The original characters come from my imagination, and have appeared in some of my other works. I am pretty sure that my imagination belongs to me, unless it runs wild and becomes a law unto itself.**

Chapter Five

It was only after John pointed out that one of the reasons they joined International Rescue was because after helping Brains and Zoe, they knew they had the power to make a difference in strangers' chances of survival that Jeff granted his three sons a day pass to the mainland.

Two weeks after they received Zoe's letter, the three brothers slid easily onto the Formica bench at the local ice-cream parlour. John fidgeted on his butt, shifting his weight, glancing at his watch and tapping his fingers on the table top.

"John, relax," Virgil struggled to stifle his laughter. "Anyone can be a few minutes late."

"What if they don't recognise us?" John said, tracing the outline of a stain on the table top.

"They will," Scott parried back. "I mean, the three of us are squished onto one bench; it's pretty obvious we're meeting someone."

From the far side of the shop, a small bell tinkled as the door opened. Scott leaned out of the alcove they were seated in. John pushed down on Scott's back and his head stuck out too, and Virgil followed suit. An excited eight year old girl skipped into the parlour, strawberry blond curls bouncing up and down as she held hands with her mother, photograph grasped firmly in her other hand. Upon seeing the Tracy brothers, she stared at them, glanced down at the photo and stared at them again.

A slightly hopeful look up to her father, and he gave her a precipitous nod. Letting go of her mother's hand, Zoe McKenna squealed and launched herself onto Scott.

"It's you, Mr Tracy, it's really you!"

While Zoe was squeezing the life out of the eldest Tracy, John looked at the photo she held in her hand. It was taken at the hospital, the day Scott had pulled her out of the fire and held her because there was no one else there for her.

"Jeez, Scotty hasn't aged well, has he?" Virgil commented laughingly, peering at the photo.

"Shut up," Scott retorted, enveloping the girl that had attached herself to his torso. "I age just fine. Better than you, anyway."

By now, Zoe's adopted parents had made their way over, introducing themselves as Kate and Daniel Jurgins as they sat down opposite the brothers.

"Zoe, come and sit down," Kate said, patting the space next to her. "Let Mr Tracy breathe."

With a sheepish grin, Zoe moved back to her parents. "Sorry, Mr Tracy."

"It's fine; my kids do that too," he smiled back. "And Mr Tracy sounds ridiculously formal; call me Scott."

"I'm John," the blonde Tracy waved at the eight year old. "And the shorty sitting near the window is Virgil."

Virgil glowered at John. Just because he was vertically challenged compared to his two older brothers, it didn't mean that it had to be brought up all the time. Still, Virgil revelled in the fact that he was at least taller than Alan, even if it was only by an inch.

An interruption in the shape of a waitress came and placed some menus down in front of them. After they placed their order, the brothers turned their attention back to the family sitting opposite them.

"It's been a long time since we've last seen you, Zoe," John started. "What's… what's new in your life?"

Zoe then went on to tell the brothers about herself, down to what school she went to, her friends, her favourite animals and colour and the most recent holiday she had been on. The boys responded in kind, being extra careful to not let any mention of International Rescue slip.

"The reason…" she sighed deeply, scooping some partially melted Chocolate Delight into her mouth. "The reason I asked you here is because I have to do a school project about my life."

Virgil nodded in consideration, feeling sorry for the girl as he knew it couldn't have been easy for her. Hell, it wasn't easy for him when he had to do that back in school, especially as his mother had passed on a few months prior to the project being assigned.

"So I was trying to find out more information about my…" Zoe trailed off, unsure of how to continue without upsetting or insulting her parents.

"Her birth parents," Daniel supplied, giving Zoe's shoulder a squeeze. "And in our search, the closest we could get on locating any information was you three."

"I see." John steepled his hands, fingers interlocked. "That's understandable."

Twirling a lock of her hair around her finger, Zoe regarded each Tracy evenly, eyes apprehensive. "Would you… d'you mind telling me about that day?"

An uneasy look between John and Scott. Even though they had seen worse from their work as International Rescue, thinking back on their first, unofficial rescue still sent chills down their spine.

Seeing their hesitation, Zoe began to backpedal, but Scott stopped her.

"No, we don't mind. It's just… do you really want to know? It's not going to be easy to hear. If you want us to stop at any time, we will."

A cursory glance up to the two adults Zoe was sandwiched between.

"It's up to you, Zoe," Kate said.

Gritting her teeth, Zoe nodded determinedly. "I want to know."

"Eight years ago placed Scott at nineteen and a half, John was eighteen and I was sixteen and a half," Virgil began, "and we were driving home after I had gone to visit them at their respective college."

"Harvard," John interrupted, seeing Zoe's questioning look.

"Yale."

"Anyway, we had made the trip home a road trip. Scott was behind the wheel, John sat shotgun and I was cramped in the back seat."

"You weren't cramped," John sniffed. "We stuck you in the back so you wouldn't throw up over the dashboard."

"Yeah, John's right. Besides, it's not like you needed the extra leg room that sitting shotgun would have given you," Scott pointed out.

Insulted, Virgil huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Moody frown gracing his serious face, Virgil stared out of the window.

"Scott's eyes were glued on the road," John continued, easily picking up from where Virgil left off. "I was looking out of the window. I know, Kansas wheat fields seem boring, but after three months away, one takes the time to drink in the sights of home."

From across him, the eight year old still looked sceptical. John sighed internally; she would understand when she left Kansas for long periods of time.

"Out on the horizon, I could see billows of smoke. I remember thinking that on a clear day, there shouldn't have been any smoke. We were lucky the day was so clear, otherwise we may not have seen the smoke and known you were in trouble."

A glance up at Zoe, measuring just how she was handling it. To her credit, she remained remarkably impassive.

"There's never smoke without fire," Scott added quietly. "That's how we knew something terrible had happened. On a road as isolated as the one we found you on, the chances of any other person finding the crash site was, well, almost non-existent. So, we made a detour and headed out towards the location."

A deep breath in from Scott.

"I'm not going to lie; at the time, it was one of the most horrific things I had come across."

"How bad?" A quiet, subdued, tentative voice.

"Bad enough to make Virgil toss his cookies and for me to feel physically sick," John chipped in. "The worst part was the smell."

John opened his mouth, once again, to launch into a description of the scene, but Scott shook his head. There were some things the eight year old could do without; this would be challenging enough already. Besides, Zoe didn't look too good; her face had crumpled, and her eyes had formed a teary layer.

"Zoe, if you don't want to hear any more, that's fine too," Scott suggested gently. "There is nothing wrong with asking us to stop."

"No. I want to know. I _need_ to know."

"You were trapped in the car, screaming your head off; your capsule was secured behind the driver's seat. The flames of the fire were dangerously close to you, so close to burning you severely and I knew I had to get you out somehow. I remember not thinking straight and slamming my hand against the metal chassis of the car."

Zoe sucked in a breath and winced. Metal and searing heat were a bad combination; of that much she was sure.

"It was painful," Scott admitted with a weak chuckle to her reaction. "But it was worth it, because you were still alive. Still screaming, fit to burst."

A weak smile in return.

"Honestly, Zoe, if you weren't screaming as loudly as you were, I wouldn't have known you were in there. You saved your own life. I just gave you a helping hand."

"And my birth parents?"

Sobered silence. Scott lowered his head, and John squeezed his shoulder gently, an act of fraternal support. Eight years on, and both brothers knew that the McKenna deaths still haunted him. He still carried the guilt within him.

"Did they suffer?"

The honest answer, Scott knew, would be yes. Yes, Zoe's birth parents would have suffered, since they were essentially cooked alive. By the time Scott had reached them, they resembled wax models melting in an inferno. But there was no way he was going to share that with an eight year old, no matter how much she wanted to know. Maybe he was being a gallant hero, or maybe he was being selfish, but Zoe didn't need to know the grisly details. He would spare her that, whether she liked it or not. The bare bones of the tale were bad enough.

"I don't know, Zoe. I really don't know."

Another moment of sombre silence.

"Scott went with you to the hospital in the ambulance and stayed with you while both of you were being treated," John added, and the Jurgins shot Scott a grateful look. "Once Virgil, Scott and I had been discharged, we had no news of you, until now."

Eventually, the gathering drew to a close. Gathering their child close to them, the Jurgins shook each Tracy's hand.

"Thank you, for our daughter," Daniel said, letting Zoe's hand go so she could say her own farewell to Virgil, John and Scott.

"No, thank you," John countered, thinking back to the day when his father approached him with an offer to work for International Rescue. As terrible as it sounded, it was Zoe's tragedy that was the catalyst for his acceptance of his role on board Thunderbird Five. It was that day that gave him a sense of purpose, and a steady direction in his life.

Wrapping her arms around Scott's waist, Zoe gave him another hug. "Thank you for saving my life, Scott."

"No problem. If I had to, I'd do it again."

As her parents called her back to their side and they began to leave, Zoe twisted her head and offered up her parting bit of advice.

"You know, Scott, you should join International Rescue. You too, Virgil. You're good at saving people." She looked John up and down, frowning slightly at his lithe skeletal structure. "But not you, John. You're not muscular enough for that; you're too skinny."

Livid, John opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, trying to spit out words that were not coming.

"Johnny, don't pick a fight with an eight year old," Virgil laughed. After being insulted about his height, or lack thereof, vengeance was sweet. "Just let her win this round."

"What were those people at International Rescue thinking, hiring a lanky rescuer?" Scott teased gently, slinging an arm over John's shoulder as he shook his head. "Shame on them."

A companionable silence while John calmed himself down.

"Mom was right, Johnny. Everything does happen for a reason."

With that, the three boys eased their way out of the shop, grateful that despite the tragic nature of one day eight years ago, someone still had a happy ending.


End file.
